


Capitulation

by Sintero



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Altar Sex, Grace Kink, Halo Kink, Lucifer breaks stuff when he comes, Lucifer/Sam Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Shameless excuse for porn, completely oblivious Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintero/pseuds/Sintero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every day is a new hunt, a different hotel, and some fresh new hell between him and his brother; the only constant in Sam’s life at this point is Lucifer. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capitulation

Sam groggily opens his eyes to find himself staring up into the dilapidated crossbeams of an old church roof.

“Your soul is not beautiful; it’s a dark, shattered thing that’s held together with nothing but regret and unfulfilled promises. It’s as perverse and broken as I am, and you are a fool to think that you deserve anything but this,” Lucifer whispers softly into the side of his neck, smiling sardonically. Sam bows his head, and some traitorous part of him agrees. Lucifer is all that he deserves.

Cold stone presses into his naked buttocks and shoulders as he flexes his back against the altar on which he’s bound.  “God, I know I’m ruined, I know I’m fucked up, but I still won’t say ‘yes.’” Breath hitching, Sam struggles to force the words past the constriction in his throat.

His paltry opposition is met with a deep, rolling laugh that resonates through his skin with dark promise. Lucifer rises from where he stoops over Sam’s head and cards his work hardened fingers through Sam’s hair in what could be mistaken as a gesture of comfort. “Oh, Sammy, we’re so far past consent. Your body screamed ‘yes’ when you writhed beneath me on this altar the first time. Your soul cried ‘yes’ when you wrapped your lips around the shape of my name in your pleasure. Your will said ‘yes’ when you kept coming back.”

Lucifer moves around to Sam’s side and runs a hand reverently across the sweat-slick planes of his chest and abdomen.

“Your body is _mine._ ”

His fingers begin to emit an unearthly glow that crackles like heat lightning against Sam’s skin. Sam’s soul stirs and rises to meet the archangel’s touch in glowing blue pools.

“Your soul is _mine_.”

Lucifer’s other hand tangles briefly in the rough cord binding Sam’s hands above his head.

“Your will is _mine_. I don’t need you to say ‘yes,’ but I will make you say ‘please,’” he states evenly.

Sam can only moan in response. They’ve done this often enough now that the banter is almost scripted. The altar knows the taste of them both intimately. Sam’s continued capitulation is a raw wound, rendered more painful with each surrender. He’s addicted to the Devil.

Thunder cracks outside of the old, dilapidated church and rattles the stained-glass windows in their leaden frames. Lightning flares briefly and illuminates the sinuous bulge of Lucifer’s rigid arms and thighs as he pulls himself up to straddle Sam’s hips on the rough-hewn stone. He moves with an effortless grace that is wholly non-human. The lightning fades and they are plunged into an all-consuming darkness, illuminated only by the blue glow that emanates from Lucifer’s fingertips as they begin to dance across Sam’s skin with intent. His stomach twitches at each sweet contact and a steady buzz roils beneath Sam’s skin, so loud that it drowns out the harsh patter of rain against the windows. It’s with a heady mix of pleasure and trepidation that Sam pulls against his bonds and chokes back a strangled moan.

Lucifer takes a moment to lean back and appreciate the beauty inherent in the muted glow of Enochian symbols drawn across the trembling canvas beneath his thighs, framed in a patina of sweat. He thinks that Sam’s complete submission is the most beautiful aspect of all. Lucifer continues to leisurely trace his fingers in luminous loops and swirls across the bulges of muscle on Sam’s bound arms, and each new inch of scrawl adds to the mounting crescendo building in Sam’s ears. His body is absolutely thrumming with the power of soul and angelic grace. Only when he arches off of the cold stone, rapturous light pouring from his eyes and the silent screaming “o” of his mouth, does Lucifer begin to touch him in earnest. Firm hands and a viciously questing mouth are his reward. Lucifer is never gentle at first; it would be a lie if he acted otherwise. And they both know that Lucifer never lies.

Every touch is like drowning, every sensuous kiss a small death.

“Lu-ci-fer,” Sam keens through the lingering burn of Enochian and grace on his tongue.

Lucifer grasps a handful of Sam’s hair and forces his head back, exposing his throat. “Say it,” he growls through clenched teeth as he drags his lips along the stubble of Sam’s jaw. Sam bucks his hips futilely against the too-hot flesh of Lucifer’s buttocks and arches his head back further. He can feel the pulsing build-up of grace in his throat once more and screams as the crescendo of light takes him, shaping it into a broken appeal. “ _Please!_ ”

In that instant, Lucifer loses his composure. His skin positively explodes with arcs of golden light, like solar flares, and the corporeal representation of his halo and multitudinous wings burst into the room with a sharp crack. He rises from where he straddles Sam’s thighs and abruptly situates himself between them instead. The stone is sharp and abrasive against his knees, but their trysts have always been baptized in blood.

Chest heaving, Sam snaps the rope binding his hands and feet. Smoke rises from the cord in curls. He reaches up to grasp at Lucifer’s shoulders and pulls him in close for a passionate kiss that tastes like ozone and feels like burning. Resisting Sam’s insistence on a battle of teeth and tongue, Lucifer’s lips envelope his perfectly, and he guides their tongues in a gentle slip and slide that is smooth and gentle in direct juxtaposition to the fingertips clawing sharply into Sam’s hips. Despite the roughness of their sex, the battle to claim and mark, he never lets Sam forget that this is also about intimacy.

Lucifer slides both calloused hands between their chests and slicks his fingers and palms in the fluttering pools of soul and grace. Sam moans as they part from the kiss and Lucifer instead begins to lave attention to the sensitive juncture of jaw and earlobe with his tongue. Covered in the muted glow of grace, Lucifer slides an index finger around the tight muscle of Sam’s anus in lazy circles and eventually pushes in. He receives a sigh of pleasure in return. Quick work is made of the preparation, and all too soon Lucifer is loosely running a palm up and down Sam’s straining erection while he pushes the head of his own cock up against Sam’s hole.

“We are both broken shades of what we should be. But together…” Lucifer whispers as he slides into him in one long, slow, reverent push. “Together we are whole.” Tight warmth surrounds his cock in blasphemous pleasure that is as close to Heaven as a fallen angel and hell-bound human will ever get. Sam writhes and bites his bottom lip to hold back a primal groan at the sharp pain of the invasion.

Shifting languidly, Lucifer pulls one of Sam’s thighs up against his chest and lets the foot dangle over his shoulder. Every push is a slow burn deep inside of Sam, counterpoint to the harsh grating of his skin against the rough stone beneath him. It’s perfect.

Lightning continues to flare outside of the windows, but it’s the powerful beats of Lucifer’s golden wings with each controlled thrust of his hips that threatens to rattle them apart. They fuck in the blinding glow of Lucifer’s grace at a leisurely pace that is all about want and completion.

Sam can see the slowly revolving diadem floating above Lucifer’s blonde hair and reaches out to grasp it. Strings of golden light reach out towards his fingers and pull his hand in, to where the solid curve of it rests along his palm. A warm, tingling tendril of Lucifer’s grace travels down Sam’s arm and visibly twines itself into where his soul is exposed in his skin as glowing Enochian symbols. Lucifer shudders at the touch and the rhythm of his thrusting hips falters, devolving into something frantic and powerful to the point of pain once more. Sam devours the ache of it and draws blood on Lucifer’s back with his fingernails. He lives for this heady mix of pleasure and hurt.

They both do.

Sam pushes back on Lucifer’s cock, taking him as deeply as physically possible, and grabs the diadem in both fists. That’s all it takes for Lucifer to come with a roar that shatters the stained-glass windows and destroys the altar beneath them. His wings vibrate and crackle, posturing stiffly behind him. Sam follows quickly with one last wring of Lucifer’s hand on the heaviness of his cock.

The church is silent and solemn in the aftermath of their release.

It takes several minutes for the rubble beneath him to make Sam uncomfortable enough in his post-coital bliss to push up off of the floor.

The evidence of their lovemaking is banished with the casual flick of a hand, but Lucifer takes his time in re-dressing Sam the human way. He kneels before him and slides Sam’s boxers up his thighs reverently, placing a kiss against the cotton band once it is seated low on the swell of his hips. Sam sighs heavily and places a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder to steady himself. It’s almost surreal how there is nothing but unconditional trust and immeasurable love in the arms of his enemy. Lucifer rises from the floor and arches an amused eyebrow at Sam.

“Stop reading my mind,” he grinds out testily, with no real heat behind the words.

Lucifer merely laughs and holds out the plain white t-shirt. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

In the time it takes for Sam to pull the shirt down over his head, the ancient church is replaced by the hideous orange stucco walls of yet another dingy motel room. Dean is splayed across one twin bed with legs akimbo and the sheet in a headlock.

Sam sighs and sits heavily on his own mattress. Lucifer paces over to him, still nude, and leans down to kiss him lightly on the lips, caressing his face.

“Sleep well, Sam.”

Leaning into the unnaturally warm touch, Sam closes his eyes with a soft smile. “You’ll be back tomorrow,” he says haltingly as he yawns. It’s not a question. A slow smile is his only answer before the room is empty but for his brother’s reverberating snores.

Dean can never be allowed to know.

 


End file.
